Once Upon a Dream
by MadMonkette
Summary: Snape's been sneaking around. Hermione's about to get involved.
1. Default Chapter

Antilitigation Charm:  
All cannon characters, places, and concepts are the property of the divine J.K. Rowling.  
I'm just borrowing them for a bit of a romp, and I promise to give them back when I'm done.  
I'm not making any money off of this. Please don't sue me, because it really wouldn't be   
worth your time.  
FYI, Hermione is 18 in this story (time turners, late birthday, whatever); I am NOT into  
lemons.  
Once Upon A Dream  
  
Chpt. 1  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and tiredly rested her head on the library table. The candles   
were burning low, and most of the rest of Hogwarts was already asleep. If not for the   
necessity of finishing her honours project before Christmas break (after all, she was   
going to need some time to go to Christmas parties between studying for the next term and   
working on the five potions projects that she had planned), Hermoine would have long  
before retired for the night. With her cheek resting on the soft leather cover of a thick  
book, she took a moment to savour the rich aromas of the ancient library around her - a   
delicious combination of wax and dust, old leather and polished wood. Her senses seemed   
to slow to match the silent library, and she absently began to concentrate on picking out  
the different scents. Easily, she became aware of the light lavender that had been added   
to the wax of her smouldering candle and the soft woody smell of the Red Oak in the table   
beneath her. The leather book had the tangy smell of cow, but the pages in-between had   
the lighter odour of expensive vellum. Stretching her awareness farther out, she tracked  
the library shelves around her. To her left was a rack of parchment made from Egyptian   
reeds. Next to them, an entire set of volumes covered in gryphon-skin. The Care of   
Dragons volumes smelt strongly of their dragon-scale encasements (how better to keep them  
from catching fire?). A few muggle books provided a harsh contrast with their strong  
odour of manufacturing.   
  
Hermione felt a small burst of pride as she realized how much her scent perception had   
improved in the last several months, when she had consciously begun to work on improving   
it. In order to someday have the chance of obtaining the illustrious title of Potions   
Mistress, she would have to have the keenest awareness of the components with which she   
worked. A single particle of contamination could drastically alter delicate potions.   
Consequently, one of the typical entrance exams for programs of advanced potions studies   
involved being enclosed in a fully stocked room of unmarked substances (typically over   
five hundred, only a few of which would be found in a standard potions laboratory). In   
order to successfully pass, the applicant would have to identify all of them within a   
twenty-four hour period. Most aspiring students were in their mid-thirties by the time   
that they were prepared to pass the rigorous entrance exams. Hermoine intended to be   
ready by her nineteenth birthday, the same age as the youngest-ever successful student,   
Severus Snape.  
  
Hermione had come across that little tidbit of information while researching the entrance   
exams for Magus Maximus's potions program, the most respected advanced studies program in   
Europe. Professor Snape had graduated as a prodigy at twenty-two, and Hermione intended   
to use the record of his success as a measuring stick for her own.   
  
Porions had tied with transfigurations as Hermione's favourite lesson for most of her   
time at Hogwarts. However, in the last six months or so, potions had begun to absorb more   
and more of her attention. Watching Professor Snape's intense manner as he stooped over a   
student's cauldron, his eyes dreamy and his hands precise as he added ingredients to his   
own in the advanced potions classes, had inflamed her interest for the subject. The   
deciding factor, however, had come when she had suddenly realized something – Transfiguring   
one object into another could be an interesting challenge, but, at some point, it boiled   
down to just one thing: turning one thing into another. Over and over and over again,   
always the same thing.   
  
With potions, though, there was the constant challenge of finding new ways to apply   
components. Even the tried-and-true components could, with a bit of luck and creativity,   
be used to create quite surprising results. That too, actually, was one of the two   
elements of gaining recognition as a Potions Master: to create a truly revolutionary   
potion out of the one hundred and fifty ingredients listed in the Standard Book of   
Potions, and to discover and catalogue the uses of a previously unknown substance.   
  
She grinned to herself; the second requirement was often quite difficult. She,   
however, was certain that some research into muggle chemistry would yield amazing   
results. Even the cursory tests that she had performed in her all-too-uncommon spare time   
had indicated that the introduction of some of the muggle high-conductance alloys into   
potions commonly used to enchant magical 'storage' devices could have a marked increase   
on their effectiveness. More extensive testing would be required to figure out which of   
the chemical interactions in the potion was causing the effect. Best, though, was the   
fact that, to the best of her knowledge, no Potions Master had yet done any research into   
this subject. At least, not according to any of the journal articles that she had seen,   
and she had gone back as far as twenty years in all of the potions journals available in   
Hogwart's library.  
  
Hermione yawned again, startled to realize that she had nearly drifted off. A glance at   
her watch revealed that she had wasted nearly fifteen minutes in pointless   
wool-gathering.   
  
'It is definitely time', she thought, 'to go to bed.'  
  
Sleepily, she collected her notes and books. Her candle had burned down almost to a stub,   
and the torches in their wall-scones were nearly guttered. Weird shadows danced on   
the walls with the drafts of the old castle.   
............................................  
Ok y'all, you know the drill -- tell me what you think of the story, and I'll tell you what   
happens next. If nobody seems to want to know, I'll probably just try to think up   
another plot to inflict on you! *evil laughter*  
Oh, and Please Be Nice. This is the first bit of fiction that I've written in a really,   
really long time. Constructive comments are more than welcome, though. 


	2. chpt2

Antilitigation Charm:  
All cannon characters, places, and concepts are the property of the divine J.K. Rowling.  
I'm just borrowing them for a bit of a romp, and I promise to give them back when I'm done.  
I'm not making any money off of this. Please don't sue me, because it really wouldn't be   
worth your time.  
FYI, Hermione is 18 in this story (time turners, late birthday, whatever); I am NOT into  
lemons.  
Once Upon A Dream  
...............................  
  
Chpt. 2  
  
At this time of night, the castle seemed almost to talk to itself in a language of creaks  
and distant moans. Hermione carefully closed the library door behind her; although most   
of the teachers would discretely ignore her late-night wanderings, it was best to avoid  
drawing attention to it. A silencing charm on her shoes padded her footsteps.  
  
Down the corridor, past the entrance to the great hall, Hermione walked swiftly, eager to  
reach her bed as soon as possible. As she neared the main stairwell of the castle, she  
began to realize that one of the distant groans of the castle was beginning to sound  
not-so-distant. In fact, she realized as she put her hand on the banister, it definitely  
had a source. Unfortunately, that source was located on the floor below, in the dungeons.  
Professor Snape was notoriously unforgiving of students caught trespassing in his private  
domain. The last one, a foolish sixth year from Hufflepuff, had ended up testing potions  
for a senior potions seminar. His subsequent stay in the infirmary had lasted more than   
a week. Hermione gulped.  
  
Just then, the moaning took on the keening of an animal in pain.  
  
'Shit!', Hermione scrambled down the stairs, her worry forgotten. The dungeon was filled   
with a gloom that no student's spell could life; Professor Snape deliberately kept it that   
way. Anxiously, Hermione scanned what she could see of the shadows, looking for an   
injured student.  
  
'Peeves', she hissed, 'If that's just you trying to get me in trouble..'  
  
Just then, she saw it: the corner of a man's boot was sticking out just behind the horrible  
statue of Betilde the Beastly that loomed at the foot of the staircase. As she came around  
the statue, a crumpled form could just barely be seen in the light from the upper floors.  
It was too large to be most of the students. The boots were covered in dirt, and the  
figure smelled strongly of blood. Warily, Hermione held her wand before her, trying to  
judge the situation.   
  
Suddenly, the figure lurched, revealing gleaming eyes and a stained, white shirt. For a   
moment, Hermione met the crazed eyes of Severus Snape. Then, he slumped back down on the  
floor, out cold.   
.......................  
Please feed the author :) 


	3. chpt3

Antilitigation Charm:  
All cannon characters, places, and concepts are the property of the divine J.K. Rowling.  
I'm just borrowing them for a bit of a romp, and I promise to give them back when I'm done.  
I'm not making any money off of this. Please don't sue me, because it really wouldn't be   
worth your time.  
FYI, Hermione is 18 in this story (time turners, late birthday, whatever); I am NOT into  
lemons.  
Once Upon A Dream  
  
....................  
Chpt. 3  
Hermione swiftly began a standard medical diagnosis, trying to find any wounds. She knew  
that Snape had been a spy for Dumbledore, and that he had returned to work after Voldemort's  
return. However, she hadn't considered exactly what that might entail. Suddenly, his   
ill temper and sickly appearance began to make a lot more sense.   
  
Her hands were busily checking his aura for damage. His skin was soft and warm, but his   
clothing was almost drenched with blood. His aura was undamaged, but terribly dark and  
almost...drained?  
  
Hermione felt her gorge rise; if she had to picture a situation that could have led to the  
professor's current condition, then she would have to choose Blood Magic -- lots of it, with  
somebody skimming the extra power out of his aura, afterward. For a moment, she started  
to wonder if his victims had been human. She quickly stopped that thought, though; that way  
lay hysteria. Dumbledore knew that Snape was working with Voldemort, and assumably would  
soon know what had happened. Now that she knew that he was..injured..the best that she  
could do would be to help keep this mess from the curious eyes of the school.  
  
Looking down at his still form, Hermione felt like crying; however, the muted whistle of  
a prefect could be heard in the school above. She probably had only a few minutes before  
the assigned Night Monitor would reach the head of the stairs. If Snape was taken to the  
infirmary, it would take Madam Pomfrey about fifty seconds to realize what Snape  
had been doing, tonight. If she wasn't already in the know, that could lead to all sorts  
of nasty complications.  
  
Cleaning spells were also hampered by the dungeon's enchantments (Snape loved to make  
students clean up after their potions exploded - the fouler, the better), but levitation  
spells were not. A whispered restraining spell (just in case he awoke still in shock),  
a heating spell (to combat the shock), and a levitation spell were issued in short order.  
  
Hermione had never been inside the professor's private quarters, but she had, in the time  
when Harry had the Marauders' Map, figured out where they were. Very cleverly, Snape had  
set a subtle 'fright' spell on the hallway immediately around where she thought the entrance  
might be located. With the extra stress of an unconscious teacher floating behind her, it  
took all of her remaining concentration to ignore it.  
  
Hermione studied the wall carefully, aware of the importance of getting Snape out of his  
blood-drenched clothing before he regained consciousness. Her fingers felt bare stone, but  
a trap spell told a different story. The door was warded. Hermione concentrated, trying  
to 'speak' to the door.  
  
In her mind's eye, an elaborate knocker slowly took shape. It appeared to be made out  
of old, tarnished silver. Ignoring the cold sweat that had begun to slide down her back,  
she seized the knocker's handle and gave a single, polite knock.  
  
The silver screws at the top of the knocker blinked, revealing themselves to be eyes.  
  
'Professor Snape is injured,' she told it, 'I am Hermione Granger, a student. I would like  
to help him into his quarters.'   
  
Although it lacked a face, the knocker managed to convey its doubt of the appropriateness  
of a female student entering its professor's domain. Knowing that time was limited,   
Hermione silently tried to communicate the urgency of the situation to the rooms' warden.  
The knocker's eyes turned concerned as its attention turned to the floated professor.  
  
A crack of light appeared along the wall - the door was opening, and not a moment too soon!  
Even as Hermione hurried to guide her burden through the door, she could hear the clumping  
steps of the Night Monitor coming down the steps behind her. 


End file.
